I'm at my first Friday night high school mixer,
dancing with a boy I've never seen before.
I try to remember the rules the nuns taught us,
about how we had to be an arm's length away
from our partner, one hand placed lightly
on his shoulder, the other loosely in his hand.
We probably looked like two robots dancing,
but there was something so pure about it.
I lean into his sweater, scratchy and smelling
like grilled cheese, this good Catholic boy
whose mother didn't serve him meat for supper.
In the gym, there's a faint odor of stale sweat,
tennis shoes and leftover bologna sandwiches
but I don't care. I see my friends watching
from the sidelines, a tinge of envy in their eyes.
I feel shy in his arms but excited, too,
I've never been this close to a boy before.
Dancing to this slow song, cheeks flushed,
I'm all romantic notions and hormones,
and I'm floating.
NOTES:
A mixer was THE big social event for all the kids attending the local Catholic Boys' and Girls' schools, back in my day. They were always held at one of the boys' schools, run by the Christian Brothers, who patrolled the halls during the dances and kept very strict order. I'm glad I got this poem written down. I'm guessing I'll need to rework it for a while!
I try to remember the rules the nuns taught us,
about how we had to be an arm's length away
from our partner, one hand placed lightly
on his shoulder, the other loosely in his hand.
We probably looked like two robots dancing,
but there was something so pure about it.
I lean into his sweater, scratchy and smelling
like grilled cheese, this good Catholic boy
whose mother didn't serve him meat for supper.
In the gym, there's a faint odor of stale sweat,
tennis shoes and leftover bologna sandwiches
but I don't care. I see my friends watching
from the sidelines, a tinge of envy in their eyes.
I feel shy in his arms but excited, too,
I've never been this close to a boy before.
Dancing to this slow song, cheeks flushed,
I'm all romantic notions and hormones,
and I'm floating.
NOTES:
A mixer was THE big social event for all the kids attending the local Catholic Boys' and Girls' schools, back in my day. They were always held at one of the boys' schools, run by the Christian Brothers, who patrolled the halls during the dances and kept very strict order. I'm glad I got this poem written down. I'm guessing I'll need to rework it for a while!
2 comments:
Your memory exploded into several of my own. Love the feelings you make clear with the sense of smell and your own private thoughts that dance throughout the piece. You have me remembering things from so long ago. Thank you,
Elizabeth
https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/wild-within/
Good stuff, Marianne. Made me think of my first dance with a boy from a public school that I went to. I didn't of all my siblings attend a catholic school. That first time we encounter magic.
Love,
Pamela
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